Arkham Asylum
by Failure Turtle
Summary: Following the collapse of Jeff Hardy, Matt enlists his brother into the local mental institution. And he's just the test for the new doctor. JeffxOC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I am so, so sorry...And yes, Arkham Asylum is the name of the institution from Batman. I just couldn't really think of a better name...**

**Once again, I give my sincerest apologies to anyone reading this.**

It almost appeared to be an interrogation room. A single bulb shone down from the ceiling, casting a bright glow directly below it. There was one table in the middle of the dark cell with no windows. Two chairs were placed opposite each other. In one chair sat an older man with a stack of papers in front of him. The slight grayish tint in his hair gave him a disciplinary look. Across from him sat a young, blonde woman no older than twenty-eight. Her long hair was tied up in a neat bun at the base of her neck. Not a hair was out of place. Her dark blue eyes were hidden by thick rimmed, square glasses. Her legs were crossed underneath her long white lab coat, the heel of her left pump nervously clicking against the leg of her chair.

"Your name?"

"Dr. Courtney Jester, sir."

"Doctor? Do you really use that when introducing yourself? A little cocky, aren't we, now?"

"I don't think that using my formal title is considered to be cocky, sir."

The owner of Arkham Asylum, Trent Daily, stared at the applying doctor until the corners of his lips curled up a bit. "_Doctor_, I'm almost pleased to find that this rough exterior you're showing, if it is not a ruse, could allow you to fit quite nicely into the hall of Arkham Asylum. Our patients are not particularly of the normal sort..."

"Is anybody in a mental institution really considered to be normal?" Courtney countered, freezing her face to prevent her eyes from rolling.

The slight smile on Trent's face expanded to a full one. "Touché, madam," he said with a slight bow of the head. "Are you ready for your first test?"

"Is it multiple choice?" Courtney joked.

"Funny you should mention that..."

* * *

_Jeff's POV_

According to the marks on the wall, I've been here for two weeks. It feels like much longer.

I'll never forgive Matt for putting me here. I'm not crazy, I swear! A good snap or seven is good for everyone. I thought nothing could be worse than rehab, but apparently, I was wrong. This is way worse. It's like rehab, but with the added pleasure of being under a fucking microscope all day and all night. I've only been out of my straight jacket once or twice a day to use the bathroom. It's not exactly living large like I always dreamed, but hey, we can't all get what we want.

Is this justifiable punishment for my supposed crimes? All I did was do what they told me. I was supposed to hit Undertaker with a chair. I did just that. I hit him with that chair. They never told me when to stop, though. I had to take my anger out on something, and it was just convenient. I didn't know that he was going to die. I wasn't _trying _to kill him. But all in all, it was a very ironic and comedic death. All this jabbering on and on about being the Deadman...

I hope he has fun in hell.

The glass door of my cell opened. Nice! I'm hacking out early! Now if only I wasn't confined to this jacket...

Oh, it's just that dweeb, Trent. He's second on my list after Matt.

But who is this pretty little thing? A new toy for me? Trent has really outdone himself this time.

What story should I tell her? Should I tell her the one about my mother dying? Or how about the one where Matt left me at the arena when I was seven? Or how the only time I've ever been truly happy was when I was swinging chairs at everyone I knew?

This should be fun.

* * *

_November 14th, 2008_

I guess my test really was multiple choice. It turns out that my test subject is a schizophrenic. His name is Jeff Hardy. Apparently, he used to be the sweetest guy in the world until repeated failure caused him to snap. It is also known that he killed a man on live television. The weapon of choice was a steel chair. He hit his victim one too many times in the head. Severe head trauma and blood loss was the cause of death. I'm supposed to figure out if it was by accident or on purpose. He kept muttering something about a dead man, whoever that was. I think what he kept saying was, _Now he is really dead, just like he always wanted. The dead man never knew what he wanted until I gave it to him. How can a nice guy like me be so crazy? _I can't tell if he is remorseful for his crime or not.

He really is quite the physical specimen. He is in tip top shape, which is to be assumed since he was a professional wrestler. His other attributes are not so appealing. He has bright green hair to match his eyes. His facial hair looks as if he was attacked by a razor. Is it all a part of his crazy gimmick, if it is a gimmick at all?

I'm not quite sure on the approach I should take. I sat down with him for a few moments. He told me some story about how the only time he was ever truly happy was when he was in the wrestling ring. Is this sympathy a weapon? I've been told that he's the craziest of the crazy, so I should be on my toes at all times.

**A/N: So...I'm expecting this to get ripped off sometime tomorrow...Just like how my other psycho Jeff story was ripped off the same day I posted it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'll keep apologizing until everything is over. I am so, so, so sorry.**

"He's really quite...interesting."

Trent chuckled. "Well, he is one of our more colorful patients."

"I hope you aren't meaning that as a joke," Courtney refuted, remembering that Jeff's hair was bright green.

"If you're going to study that guy, you better learn to like jokes," Trent said, earning himself a quizzical look from Courtney. Remembering that Courtney had yet to interact with Jeff for an extended period of time, he quickly changed the subject, and along with it, the mood of their discussion. "But, really though, if you could figure out if he was really insane at the time of the murder, that would really help us out. And...I'm pretty sure it would guarantee yourself a permanent spot here at Arkham Asylum."

"Is this how you test all of your new candidates?" Courtney wondered. Never before had she heard of such an admissions test.

"Actually, you were our only applicant," Trent revealed. "Apparently, this place is much too intimidating for the normal doctor."

Courtney smiled. "I guess I have no competition then."

"I suppose you are right on that one. Even so, you are our only hope."

"Big shoes to fill," Courtney noted.

"More than you think, dear. More than you think. Shall we bring the patient in for questioning?" Trent asked.

"I'm not talking to him in his cell?"

"No. After the initial meeting, we like to speak with our patients in here," Trent explained, waving his arm around the room, the same room that he had first interviewed Courtney in. "It's a room that they aren't used to, and the doctors don't spend much time in here, either. It's a neutral territory."

"I suppose that makes sense. I wouldn't want to make him feel uncomfortable if I'm trying to figure out if he's criminally insane."

"Oh, and another thing," Trent said as he left the room to go and pick up Jeff to bring him to the room, "he will be in his jacket."

"At least you're not feeding me to the sharks just yet."

"You, Courtney, have no idea."

* * *

Courtney drummed her pen on the notepad that rested on her crossed leg. She and Jeff had sat in silence for a long time. Every question that Courtney asked had gone unanswered.

"How are you, Jeff?"

Nothing.

"Are you not in the mood to talk?"

That earned her a grunt from the green haired man.

"How did you feel after you found out you killed a coworker?"

That was the last question she asked for a while. After she said the word "killed," Jeff's eyes raised up and bored into her blue ones. Courtney felt as if her eyes were burning, almost like Jeff had laser vision. She had never seen such anger from anyone in her life.

She looked down after witnessing the anger and scribbled into her notepad.

_Shows no remorse for crime. Vengeful?_

Courtney was deep in thought, thinking of what to say. Her concentration broke when Jeff started swaying from side to side. He began to lightly sing:

_Time has come and gone for Taker  
Now is the time he has met his maker_

"Excuse me?" Courtney said after hearing Jeff's little rhyme.

Jeff stopped in mid-sway, his body at almost parallel to the ground as he leaned to his left. He slowly straightened himself up in his chair and bent his chin down, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath in, and just as he was about to let it out.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!"

His eyes shot open as he screamed at the top of his lungs, struggling against his straight jacket.

Courtney flinched, covering her ears. She thought she heard a slight ripping sound, but assumed it was just a crack in Jeff's voice.

Jeff stopped screaming and returned to his peaceful swaying, but this time without singing. Courtney slowly put her hands down and leaned down to pick up her notepad that had fallen off her knee. When she resumed her original position, she jumped when she saw that Jeff was standing up, bending over the table as far as his straight jacket would allow him to, peering at the notepad.

"What'cha writin'?" he asked, clicking his tongue.

"Stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Why don't you sit down like a good boy and I'll tell you," Courtney bribed. Jeff sat down at looked at her with a smile.

"I'm not a dog, you know," Jeff said a few moments after he sat down once Courtney did not meet his request. His face instantly turned back to its dark norm. "You cannot simply bark orders at me. I do not comply with orders very easily."

"Is this your sad attempt at reverse psychology? You know, that won't work on me," Courtney said, grinning at her patient.

"I would hope that it wouldn't work. Aren't you a psychologist?"

"Something like that."

"It's no wonder you're so easy to read," Jeff said.

"What do you mean?"

"You're all the same. You claim to be trying to help us, but you're just in it for your personal gain."

Courtney pursed her lips. "Do you know how much time we were given today?"

"However long you need. But I'd appreciate if you could call Trent in here. I feel the need to relieve myself."

Courtney nodded and stood up, walking over the the door and picking up the small phone that went directly to Trent's office line. "Trent? Yeah, we're done. He wouldn't talk and he says he has business to take care of, if you know what I mean...Yeah? Okay...Great, thanks." Courtney hung up the phone and walked back to Jeff. "Okay, he's on his way."

Jeff looked as if he was struggling again, but he stopped at the sound of Courtney's voice. "Thanks, dearie. You're a doll."

Courtney surveyed Jeff during the short wait for Trent. When Trent entered the room, Courtney stopped staring at the crazy man in front of her.

"Sorry, Trent, I tried but I think that's enough for--"

Courtney's jaw dropped at the sight in front of her. She finally discovered where that ripping sound was coming from.

Jeff had a knife hidden in his straight jacket. He cut it open and attacked Trent, slitting his throat on the first attempt.

Trent fell to the ground with a reverberating thud in the concrete room.

Instinctively, Courtney backed up against the wall behind her, sure that Jeff was going to round on her next.

Sure enough, he did.

"Oh, little Courtney," he said, placing the blade against her cheek. "I'm not going to hurt you...yet. But if you tell anyone...Oh, the horror...Oh, the crazy, crazy horror. Do you want to end up like him?" He slid the knife down her skin, but not making a mark or drawing blood. "I don't think you doooooooo......."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Wow, this story is doing better than I thought it would. I didn't think anyone would like the way I write psycho Jeff. In my opinion, this is the way he was meant to be. I love it. At work last night, I went on this huge rant about how amazing Jeff is. And then the guys who didn't like Jeff told me that Cody looks like he got hit in the face with a brick. Yeah, that did shut me up about Jeff. I had to defend Cody.**

_Jeff's POV_

The body...the body...I need to dispose of the body. I'll put Trent with his old friends.

It's not that big of a deal, really. Trent was the big boy on campus around here. Everyone feared him, but they feared him out of hate. He was quite the douchebag. Besides, nobody else is going to take charge around here. I was feared second after Trent since I'm the craziest son of a bitch they've ever seen in their lives. No one else here at Arkham has killed another person, let alone doing anything on film like that. They may have come close, but nobody tops Jeff Hardy. Not anymore.

No one is better than I am.

I am going to take over Arkham, and I will make Courtney my queen. She is quite lovely, in that smart kind of way. And if she tells anybody, I'll resort to the Victorian way of doing things.

Off with her head.

And I'll personally do it, and I'll enjoy every moment of slicing her neck.

* * *

Jeff pulled the knife away from Courtney, much to her relief. She now noticed that under his straight jacket, he was wearing street clothes: black sneakers, blue jeans, and white t-shirt. He placed the knife in his pocket so the handle was still sticking out for easy access.

"Stay here," he snarled, licking his lips as he bored into Courtney's eyes.

Jeff skipped over to Trent's body. He flipped him over so he was face down and dragged him out of the room by his feet, leaving a trail of blood on the concrete ground as he went on.

Courtney let out a sigh of relief as she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. The psycho was out of her sight...

For now.

If she was smart, she would run. She would warn as many people as she could. Surely, there had to be other workers doing their jobs. She would warn them about Jeff and how he was a murderous bastard.

She scuttled over to the table and grabbed her notepad. Under her earlier note, she scribbled something else.

_Insane? Yes. Criminal? Yes. Just killed another man. Fulfilled Trent's request. Work here is done._

"YOU!" Jeff screamed, poking his head back into the room. Courtney snapped her notepad shut and looked up to see Jeff, now with blood on his mouth. "Schnookums, could you come with me? I have something to show you."

* * *

_November 15th, 2008_

I can't leave. I can't believe he's done this.

He's confined me to his old cell. He's taken over the whole asylum. He's treating the workers like slaves. He has crowned himself the king of Arkham, and the patients are his subjects.

And what am I? I'm not quite sure. One moment, he told me that I would be his queen. The next moment, I'm scrubbing his shoes.

I don't think I can ever physically speak about what he did with Trent's body. He carried it down a long hallway and opened a huge safe door, not unlike ones seen at a bank. And what was inside was the scariest thing I've ever seen.

He called it "The Dollhouse."

Inside the Dollhouse were a bunch of other unfortunate souls that ended up just like Trent before him. There had to be at least three dozen other dead bodies in there. Jeff explained that they were all his doing.

The scariest part? Jeff's only been here two weeks.

No wonder they were so eager to hire people...And no wonder no one applied but me.

I'm next. I know it.

Either way, I'm done. If I manage to escape, of course I'm going to turn him in. But the thing is, Jeff said that if I _ever_ tell _anyone_ what I saw here, he'll personally kill me in the worst way he knows how.

The way Trent died was pretty horrible. I don't want to know what's worse than that.

And if I don't escape, there's only a limited amount of time before Jeff decides that I'm not needed anymore. He'll dispose of me like yesterday's garbage.


	4. Chapter 4

_Jeff's POV_

"Is there a method to your madness?"

Method? Madness? What was this girl on?

"Courtney, I assure you that I have no idea what you're talking about."

The girl sat in the corner with her knees to her chest, humming a tune that was probably supposed to comfort her in this distressed time.

Distressed? Am I _really_ that horrible?

"No idea what I'm talking about?" she snapped, her legs extending and resting on the ground. "You've killed how many people since you've been here? And you got away with it?"

"I wouldn't exactly say that I necessarily 'got a way with it,' Courts. Our surroundings are still a little on the drab side. This is still a prison, you know," I said, snapping my fingers.

"But how did you get away with it?" she whispered, pulling her knees back up to her comfort zone.

Sheesh.

"Okay, Courtney, this is how it went down," I started, sitting down on the chair in my cell. "No one cares about this place. This isn't some high-tech place they've got going on. That's why this joint is on _an island_. First, I started off with people that no one ever saw. Cooks. Janitors. You know, the easy stuff. I have to work my way up somehow. And then, I hit the honchos like Trent. Trust me, a slit throat here or a broken neck there isn't that much for me."

"But the security guards…"

"Security guards!" I shrieked as I laughed, holding a stitch in my side. "Those lazy bums? God, even if I didn't kill them, they were as good as dead. They don't do anything. They play World of Warcraft in the surveillance room, for crying out loud. Half of them sleep on duty. And since ol' Trent kicked the bucket, for lack of a better term, they've gotten even _lazier_. I really didn't think that was possible, of course, but every dog has his day."

I think I scared poor little Courtney Jester.

"But don't people come to visit? Don't supplies have to come in?"

"Do you ever shut up?" I asked, throwing her notebook that laid on the table in front of me against the wall.

She cowered in fear. Excellent.

"Ahem." I cleared my throat after my little outburst. "I must apologize. I don't mean to be…_rude_. After all, you're just asking simple questions. I suppose my future queen should…"

"Queen? I don't think so, you lunatic."

"_You're_ the one sitting in the corner of a cell at an insane asylum, shirking against the wall. I'd suggest you take a better look at who you're calling crazy. Now, before I was interrupted, what was I saying? Ah, yes, visitation rights. You see, this place is _worse_ than prison. We're stranded on a desert island with people that really don't give a damn about us. Our supposed families don't care about us, or they would be kind enough to place us into a normal institution. And as for the supplies, a ship comes in once a month. All they need is someone to sign for the packages. That's it. Then they just unload them into the kitchen and leave. No one exactly wants to spend more time here than they have to, of course." My throat was starting to hurt from talking so much. Courtney probably wants to be a little know it all.

She closed her eyes and her head rested against the stone cold walls. Her humming got louder.

"Hush up, girly pants!" I demanded. "Your humming is atrocious!"

"Does it bother you?" she asked, giving me a glare.

"Yes!"

"Then I'm not going to stop."

I looked at the ground. What did she just say? I stood up and walked towards her, getting on my knees in front of her. My face inched closer and closer to hers. Her eyes snapped open and looked into mine. She looked scared, but I wasn't going to hurt her…yet. I tried to look as mean and menacing as I could.

"What did you say?"

"I said I wasn't going to stop."

My eyes reduced to slits before breaking out into hysterical laughter. "Courtney, you're the best. Hey, want to play a game?" I asked, pulling her up by her arm and making her sit down on the other chair at the table.

"Like what?"

"Spin the bottle!"

"But there's no bottle," she said. Was that her only comeback? Hm…I guess Courtney _does_ want a piece of the ol' Jeffster.

"We don't need a bottle." I stood up and reached into my pocket. "We have…A knife!" I quickly extracted the knife out of my pocket and flicked my wrist as I tossed it on the table, causing it to spin around and around.

"Are you insane?"

"Heh." I danced and sang as the knife spun. "_You spin me right 'round baby right 'round. Like a record baby. Right 'round 'round 'round_."

"You are a sick clown," Courtney said, but she didn't sound as scared as she once did.

"_I'm_ a clown? Sorry, but I don't think someone with the name Courtney Jester should be calling _me_ a clown."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: The lack of reviews in this section is pathetic.**

_Courtney's POV_

I barely remember how I got here. According to Jeff, it's been two weeks since he's held me captive. I wouldn't know if it had been two weeks or two years at this point. There are no windows at Arkham Asylum. And I wouldn't trust the clocks. Each one tells a different time. Hell, I could be in Tokyo and I wouldn't be surprised.

The cell that Jeff and I shared seemed to get grander and grander with each passing day. One day, it was just a bed, chair, and table. Now there was a recliner and a couch, as well. I didn't dare ask where he got them from. I quickly learned not to question his methods…

Until I witnessed it for myself.

There was a knock on the tiny cell door. Jeff leaped up from his horizontal position on the bed and jaunted as he approached the door.

"What?" he barked at the visitor.

"Your pizza is here," the young man at the door said.

I couldn't believe it. He actually ordered a fucking pizza in this joint. But how the hell did it get here? We're on an island. What did this kid do, float on the pizza box like a raft? I really didn't want to know why or how he ordered a pizza, but I knew I wouldn't eat a bit of it.

"What a coincidence…" Jeff sighed. "So is your death."

I had to close my eyes to avoid witnessing the demise of this teenage boy, but Jeff's knife skills were quicker than my hands. In one swift motion, the knife was exposed and the poor boy was dead.

I don't know why I still found myself to be shocked by his behavior. This was most characteristic of Jeff, but I thought that maybe since he pretty much controlled this place, his anger and murderous antics would also be controlled. I guess not.

When Jeff looked over at me, I acted as if nothing had happened. I acted as if he just paid the milkman.

In fact, Jeff was the angry one.

"Why are you acting as if that didn't happen, Court?" he snarled, storming up to me after he picked up the pizza box, expertly tossing it onto the table.

"I'm used to it," I mumbled, but I don't think that was the response he was looking for.

His hand moved backwards as he raised it up. I cowered against the wall, afraid he was going to hit me. True to his style, he once again shocked me when he lowered his hand and frowned at me. "You mean…you didn't get it?"

"No?" I asked. I didn't even understand his question.

"He said the pizza had arrived…and I said that his death did, as well," he explained, chuckling.

I didn't find it funny.

* * *

_Jeff's POV_

I can't believe she didn't get my joke. I'm insulted. This pains me deeply. I feel more remorse about this than I do about killing this pizza kid. Little did he know, he wasn't really delivering me a pizza…but still. He was just the messenger, but those are some of my favorite people to kill.

"I'll be right back," I mumbled to Courtney. I picked up the kid and dragged him down the hallway to the Dollhouse. I think his nametag read "Jack," but the blood was covering it up so I couldn't tell.

When I came back, Courtney was looking in the pizza box which she had opened. Normally, I would have been a little angry with her, and if it was anybody else, I'd have killed them. Honestly, I've been finding her rather intriguing and adorable. She can live.

Courtney saw me, and she snapped the box shut, as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"No, go ahead," I said, urging her to continue. She reopened the box and picked up the two objects that were inside. "Here." I extended my hand, and she placed the two crowns in my grasp.

"Why did you order headgear instead of food?" she asked, her eyebrows raised at me.

"Hah," I chuckled, twirling my own crown around my finger. I placed it on my head and said, "Courtney, I am the king of Arkham. And you…" I stepped towards her and placed the dainty tiara on her head. "You are the queen."

* * *

_Courtney's POV_

If I wasn't afraid that he'd kill me at any second, I'd have kicked him in the nuts and ran away. But where would I run to? As far as I knew, he and I were the only people left around here. I've never seen anyone else. Sure, there could be inmates left. And we're on an island. My swimming skills aren't quite up to par.

His eyes gleamed as he looked at me. It was a look I had never seen before. He was proud. He was compassionate.

And maybe it was the thought of being royal that was getting to me. But seeing him with that crown on his head and feeling one on my own…He had never looked more attractive to me. His eloquence was stunning, his antics were funny, and his jokes were beautiful.

And even though he's keeping me here against my will…Even though he's a murderous psychopath…

I think I'm falling in love with him.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Still sad. The end is near.**

_Courtney's POV_

The rate at which I was falling was alarming. At one moment, I just thought he was crazy. The next second, he was remotely attractive. And now? Now I was at his every beckon and call. I would sit on the bed like dog waiting for his master to return home. I was happy when he yelled at me. I reveled in it. Just hearing his voice lit a fire inside of me, but a good one. I wasn't angry.

I was in love.

Could I tell him that? No, I couldn't. Sometimes, psychopaths are unable to love, and Jeff fit the bill of a psychopath quite well. And even if I _did_ tell him, I would probably end up dead. He might kill me for feeling like that. It could go against his master plan. I'd rather be alive and here with him without him knowing how I feel instead of six feet under with him standing over me, laughing.

But it was his next request that made me fear him to the death. And I was pretty sure that one of the three of us would end up dead.

Yes. Three of us.

* * *

_Jeff's POV_

I'm feeling…a bit vengeful today. It's intoxicating.

But I can't take this out on Courtney. What kind of king would I look like if I just killed off my queen? I can't have that. And she's rather pretty. That's a bonus.

"Courtney, could you do me a favor?" I asked as I entered the room. She was lying on the bed, but at the sound of my voice, she sat straight up. It was almost as if she had been shocked by an electric current. Good girl. I've trained her well.

"Anything," she sighed, giving me a look that I was not used to receiving. I was more used to disgust, anger, or mere hatred. But this…

This was a look of love.

It took me aback a little bit. No one has ever looked at me like that, save for an occasional thirteen year old in the crowd when I was still in the WWE. How do I respond to something so foreign to me?

"I…um…er…"

Nothing has ever caused me to stammer like that. I was always ready with a response, no matter how random or explosive it was. This left me speechless. It killed the enigma.

"Jeff, are you alright?" she asked, and she actually looked like she cared. She was being real, which was something that I did not encounter often in the wrestling biz.

"Let me get back to you," I muttered softly, swiftly exiting the room. She broke me with only one word. How could I let myself fall victim to a sweet young lady whom I've been trying to corrupt?

This plan has backfired.

I need to become myself again. I think there's a chef in the kitchen that's still alive.

* * *

_November 30th, 2008_

I know he'll find this, but I don't even care. I need to get this out, even if it is only on a small scrap of paper from what used to be my journal. Even though he's destroyed every part of who I used to be, it has made me love him even more. I think it's the air. I'm breathing in his aura and I couldn't be happier about it.

But this request is a bit…off the charts, even for Jeff.

He gave me a number and the security code to hack into the surveillance room. There's a phone in there.

I could call for my escape if I wanted to. But he'd kill me before I could hang up the phone.

He wanted me to call the one person who had hurt him the most in his life.

He wanted me to call his brother, Matt, and bring him here.

Needless to say, I think that Matt should fear for his life.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I think one more chapter after this one. I think.**

_Courtney's POV_

I can't believe I actually thought I was in love with this clown. This crazy, psychopathic, murderous clown.

"H-hello," I stammered, my palms becoming sweaty against the cold plastic phone. "May I speak with…with…Mr. Matt Hardy, please?"

"This is him. May I ask who is calling?"

He sounded like such a nice guy. How is it that he and Jeff have the same parents? Maybe it was like the whole good twin-bad twin scenario. One child, the older one, was sane, mature, and competent. The younger one was insane, immature, and a loaded gun without the safety locked.

I looked down at the paper that Jeff had given me. He had written everything down for me. I would have gladly recited it to Matt on the first try without rehearsing it. No problem.

But the fact that Jeff was holding a gun to my head to ensure that fact made me just a bit more nervous. Just a bit.

"I'm, um…calling from…Arkham where your brother is. And I, uh…"

"He escaped, didn't he?" Matt asked, interrupting me. "I knew he would do that! That crazy bastard! I thought you guys were the leader in high tech security. Now he's going to run around town picking people off. You know that, don't you?"

"Tell him to calm down," Jeff mumbled in my ear, using his most seductive tone. His long fingers stroked the side of my head, just under where the gun rested against my temple.

I hated being under his power. I really did. But at the same time, it was kind of a turn on that my life was in his hands. And that thought disgusts me. Never in a million years would I have thought that I would still have good natured feelings towards someone who was probably about to kill me. But here I am, sitting with a gun to my head, scared for my life, and I actually feel bad for the guy holding the gun.

"No, Mr. Hardy…He's here. He's fine. He just wants t-to see you. He wants you to v-visit. He misses his…his brother," I tried to explain as calmly as I could. Even through my fear, I could still tell that I was fumbling with my words and I probably sounded like someone who should be admitted into the asylum instead of working for one.

But then I remembered that I'm about to die and everything made sense.

"He does? I think I can come down tomorrow, if that's alright," Matt said. Poor guy. I hope I live to see if he's really as nice as he sounds.

"Yes. See you then," I quickly said, abruptly ending the conversation.

I waited for the last sound I would ever hear, the click of the trigger.

* * *

_Jeff's POV_

Yeah, because I'd actually kill my queen.

What she doesn't know won't kill her. But then again, maybe it will.

But what's more important is…

MATT'S COMING! HE'S COMING AND HE'S GOING TO DIE!

I am very, very happy right now.

I pulled the gun away from my dear Courtney's head. Want to know a secret? It wasn't loaded. Hahahahahahaha. Ha. HAAAAA!

"You did great, cupcake," I said, giving her a hearty slap on the shoulder.

I think she started to cry.

"What's wrong, clowny boo? Did I scare you? Did my poor gun hurt you? It's not like I pulled the trigger or anything."

"You're going to kill him, aren't you?" she whispered. I've taught her well. But is that remorse she's feeling?

"Maybe I am. That is, unless you're going to do something about it."

She shook her head, but wouldn't turn around to face me. I knew she wouldn't do anything. She wouldn't _dare_ defy me.

"Just think, Court. When everyone who has ever hurt me is out of the question, we can rule together. We'll be the king and queen of the psychopaths, and Arkham Asylum will be our castle and our kingdom. Doesn't that sound lovely?"

Courtney stood up and slowly turned around. Oh, she was crying, alright. I think my gun really did scare her.

"I hate you," she muttered.

What a crock.

"Hate is such a strong word, love. But hey, lovers tell each other everything, right? Guess what? My gun wasn't even loaded! You were safe the whole time! Isn't that great news?"

Her jaw dropped. That's not a flattering facial expression for a woman, but man, does it get a guy off. I thought she was going to slap me, to which my reaction would be to promptly tackle her and crack a few jokes. Maybe a happy ending. Hah.

Instead, she ran to me and hugged me. I'm getting good at this.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Okay…maybe it's not over yet. But it's ending. Soon.**

_Jeff's POV_

I remember when my brother thought he was holier than thou and went on epic rants about how awesome he thought he was…How cool he thought he was…How indestructible he thought he was.

"_Matt Hardy will not die!"_

Matt Hardy will die tonight. I swear on my life he will. He must. It's too perfect and all too fitting. He's got to go. He landed me in here. I'll prove to him that _I_ was really the sane one all along. Who will be laughing then?

Oh, that's right…I'm _always_ the one laughing. He who laughs hardest laughs last, and that is exactly my intention.

Courtney and I sat in my lavish Arkham Asylum suite. Well, it was as lavish as I could get it to be. Every new addition I brought in never seemed to match the last one. At least we had more in this room than all of the rest of the rooms combined.

"How come you never introduced me to any of the other patients?" she asked, sketching in her notebook. She had recently taken to wearing some of my face paint. It looked weird on her at first, but then I showed her how to properly do it. and by properly, I mean just smearing it on like you don't give a fuck. And you shouldn't give a fuck about it.

"They'd kill you." I answered her in the simplest terms possible. I'm not big on explaining the simple facts of life. That's why I hate explaining my jokes. You either understand it or you don't. A joke loses its humor value if you have to explain it.

That's not funny.

"Really? You wouldn't protect me?" She honestly looked sad.

And I didn't know how to break her heart right now. I think I actually care for her.

"It would be just me against how many people in here? Besides, they all think that everything is normal. I don't tell them the same things I'd tell you. They aren't prone to liking outsiders. I couldn't protect you. They don't know about us."

"But you act like you're the King of Arkham."

"But I am."

"Then why not make them your prisoners? Hold them hostage? Do _something_!"

I sighed. She didn't get this joke, either. "This is what I didn't want to do. Here is the irony of it all. I'm _not_ the King of Arkham." I took off the crown I had worn constantly since that delivery boy brought it. "There. Joke's over. Now, can I ask _you_ a question?"

"Sure."

"After I'm done with my brother…After we're out of here…Will you still be with me?"

* * *

_Courtney's POV_

I see it now. It's all an illusion.

The corners of my mouth only half-raised. I didn't know how to answer his question. I was in love with the crazy, psychotic King of Arkham. If he wasn't that, then who was he? Just Jeff Hardy? Just a washed up wrestler who had run into some bad luck?

Damnit, he told me I was his queen!

But then I looked into his green eyes and saw that he was deeper than just a psycho. Maybe he was even schizophrenic. And that just attracted to me to him even more.

And now I'm questioning my own (in)sanity.

I slowly nodded. "Yes, Jeff. I would be." It was an honest answer. Somewhere, deep down, even if he did get over everything, he would still be the crazy clown I fell in love with in the first place.

"Good!" he cheered, picking up the crown he had taken off and placed it back on his head. "Heads will roll tonight, my sweet!"

He was back.

"What time is it, Courtney?" he asked.

I glanced at one of the many clocks he had somehow pilfered, each one with a different label underneath. I tried to find the one for our time zone. Finally, I saw it in a corner.

I guess he really did want to be as far away from reality as possible.

"It's four in the afternoon," I said, reading the digital numbers.

"AAAIIIEEEE!" he squealed, jumping up from his sitting position. "We have but only an hour!" He raced to his metal locker that he said he stole from the employee locker room. He slowly turned the dial until the latch clicked. The door swung open and he pulled out a long rifle. "Matt Hardy, Matt Hardy. Tonight is your death party!" he sang as he skipped around the room.

Normally, I'd be afraid for my own life. A psycho skipping around with a presumably loaded gun wasn't exactly the safest thing in the world. But I don't know…After my last gun-and-Jeff encounter, I don't think he'd actually shoot me.

But Matt…I want to warn him. I want to tell him to run far, far away. He doesn't deserve to die at the hands of his own crazy but beautiful brother.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I got three paragraphs of this done during the Superbowl. Awesome. This is the end. No more.**

_Courtney's POV_

Ding fucking dong, right on the clock. Five in the evening. Someone's going to die, and Jeff is determined to kill. Why does his goody two shoes brother have to be so damn punctual?

Maybe Matt does deserve this.

But if there was no Matt, then there would be no Jeff! It's because of the fact that Matt put his brother here. I don't know what I'd do if my Jeffy didn't exist. I'd be all alone and…

No one else would have died. I wouldn't be insane. Everyone would live tonight.

I'm in a tight spot, here. Instead of protecting Jeff and planning someone else's Jeff, I should be on my knees for Matt. I should be graveling to him, thanking him for everything he's ever done, even going as far as to kiss his fucking feet.

I keep finding myself switching sides. Maybe Jeff should have been the doctor all along. Maybe _I'm_ the schitzo.

Jeff is dancing like a ballerina, complete with a tutu and bright pink hair to go alone with the outfit. If I didn't already know he was crazy, I'd definitely have to question his sanity. No grown man would wear a tutu over his cargo pants like that.

"Jeff? What are you doing?" I laughed, the impending demise of his brother being taken off of my mind for a moment.

"I paid off someone close to the front to let him in for me," he said, spinning into a graceful pirouette. "Wait a second!" he said, abruptly stopping. Anyone with less self control would have fallen right over. Jeff? Self control? "He is on his way! And what am I doing? I'm parading around like a little fairy princess! Ahooga!"

He ripped off the tutu, leaving him in his 'normal' clothes. I'll never understand him, and _I_ was supposed to be the doctor. He is a case that not even the greatest of scientists will ever figure out, I'm sure of it.

* * *

_Jeff's POV_

It's time! Oh, it's really time this time and the time is right for some killing time!

Can you sense a theme here?

I skipped to the door of the cell, which was propped open, my trusty gun hidden behind the open door. That guy who is opening the door is dressed in a security outfit, so Matt won't know the difference as he's being escorted down to my cell by a certified psycho! Tee-hee! I paid the guy off, but he'll die just so I can get my money back. A foolproof plan, if I do say so, myself.

I'm an evil genius.

"Jeff? What did you do around here? I didn't think they would let you have all this. Nice digs, man."

I'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"Is that how you're going to treat me? Are you just going to talk to me like we aren't brothers and you _didn't_ force me into this loony bin?" I growled, inching closer and closer to my gun.

"I thought this place was supposed to _fix_ you, Jeff, not make you even more of a crazy asshole."

The audacity!

"I'm about to fix you."

I was done with the subtlety, not that I was ever exactly the most subtle gent.

* * *

_Courtney's POV_

No…

Brothers shouldn't fight like this. Or kill each other.

I stood off to the side of them, one on each side of me. Jeff was on my left and Matt was on the right in the middle of the room.

Big mistake, Matt. Big fucking mistake.

In one swift movement, Jeff kicked the door so it was closed, revealing the gun that was propped against the wall. He grabbed it his closest hand and aimed it at his brother. If I wasn't so scared, I'd have fallen over. I was scared stiff for _real_.

And to think, I was in Matt's position before. I sat there with a gun held to my head thinking it was loaded. But it wasn't.

But this one _is_.

He's going to kill his brother. I know he's killed people before, but what makes this one so different? Is it because they are blood related? Is it because he plays a part in Jeff's life? He's part of the grander scheme of things?

Matt slowly backed up, barely moving even inches at a time. He knew it was coming.

"You shouldn't have come here, Matt," I whispered.

He looked at me in fear. It wasn't like I was going to pounce on him and rip his throat out. I was genuinely scared for the elder Hardy brother.

"SHUT UP YOU WENCH!" Jeff yelled. His green eyes had turned to red, I was almost sure of it. He's never looked at me like that before. Every angry glare he had given me always had some sense of immaturity and joking to it. This one was serious. _Dead_ serious.

The gun clicked as it was pointed at Matt's head.

I jumped to the floor as Jeff pulled the trigger.

* * *

_Jeff's POV_

NO!

"Oh my god," Matt gasped. It should be _him_ lying dead on the floor. Him! Not my sweet, sweet Courtney!

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!" I hollered, swinging the gun in Matt's direction. "YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE COME HERE!"

"I DIDN'T SHOOT HER!"

And here we are, fighting like we did when we were younger, especially after mom died. Who is he to tell me what did or did not happen? I was aiming for him.

Oh my god. He was right. I shoot her. She jumped in front of him. She _saved_ him.

I started shaking, and I couldn't stop. I wish this was a bayonet so I could stab my brother instead. There was only one bullet in here, and I was saving it for him.

But he doesn't know that.

"GET OUT!" I screamed, chasing him with the gun until he left.

And that was the last I ever saw of my brother.

I went back to my fallen queen and whipped the gun aside. It ricocheted off the wall and fell to the ground with a large dent in it.

The blood covered her shirt. I had…hit her…in the stomach. I fell to my knees at her side and cradled her head, rocking her body back and forth.

"Wake up…It was just a joke."

**The end.**


End file.
